This world's Kingpin was not much different from the one in Ultimate Spider-Man.
At a glance, he barely even looked human.
The Kingpin of Earth-65 was bald too, sure, but at least he still looked like a person. This one looked more like a giant slab of flesh.
But appearances were deceiving.
That bulk was not fat. It was real muscle.
That gave him monstrous strength, enough to punch through a wall with his bare hands.
He was also an elite fighter, close to the absolute physical peak of an unenhanced human in the Marvel Universe.
Of course, that only applied if you ignored technology and mutation.
And for all that, he was no brute.
In truth, Kingpin was brilliant, with an extremely calculating mind.
On the surface, he was a philanthropist and business tycoon, partnered with all kinds of companies and constantly involved in charity work. But behind the scenes, he was the biggest underworld boss in the country. By rough estimate, forty percent of the nation's criminal activity traced back to him.
As one of Marvel's oldest and most infamous monsters, his enemies had always been major figures: Daredevil, the Punisher, Spider-Man, and even the Fantastic Four and the X-Men.
The fact that he had survived so many clashes with so many heroes and still lived this comfortably told you exactly how dangerous he was.
Peter was starting to suspect that his arrival in this world might have something to do with this bastard too.
When dealing with a freak like this, there was no such thing as being too careful.
For now, the enemy was in the light and Peter was in the dark. Better to wait and see what he was really after.
Peter even had reason to suspect that this world's Peter Parker had been exhausted, then finished off by this old monster when he was vulnerable.
Otherwise, why would he show up here?
Peter had no connection to Fisk.
Spider-Man did.
Was he here to gloat?
Who knew.
Meanwhile, the reporters kept throwing one disgusting question after another at Aunt May, like they had been hired specifically to make her suffer.
"Did you know in advance that Peter Parker was Spider-Man?"
"Your nephew was an outstanding superhero who protected this city for years. Did you worry about him?"
"We heard Mary Jane and Peter Parker were about to get married. Now that this has happened, what do you think?"
"There are rumors your nephew had an inappropriate relationship with George's daughter, Gwen, and some even claim Gwen once had an abortion because of Peter. Is that true?"
Every question landed like another knife.
They stabbed straight into the heart of an elderly woman whose world had already been shattered.
With each new question, Aunt May's composure broke a little more.
At last, she turned away, covered her mouth, and began to cry silently.
But the reporters still were not satisfied. They kept pushing in with cameras and microphones.
"What the hell are they trying to do?! They're stabbing Aunt May right through the heart!"
Peter's anger surged.
Without thinking, he extended the blades from both forearms. His eyes started to redden.
Right now, he wanted to go down there and kill every last one of them.
"I thought only the reporters in my time fed on other people's pain. Turns out this world is no different," Spider-Man Noir said coldly.
The world and the era were different, but he was Peter Parker too. He had been raised by Aunt May too. There was no way he felt any better watching this.
"Kill them."
Peter growled and was about to leap out, but Mary Jane grabbed him.
"Don't do anything stupid, Peter. I feel awful too, but have you thought about the possibility that this is a trap Kingpin set for you? You made a public appearance today. It's already in the news. Didn't you know that?"
She held up her phone.
Only then did Peter see it: a news article about him, with his photo attached.
Of course.
His face had become the biggest weakness of all.
If people had not seen him, maybe Aunt May would not be going through this humiliation now.
At that moment, a massive figure shoved through the crowd and stepped into the yard.
It was Fisk.
Kingpin.
With his huge body, he positioned himself between Aunt May and the reporters.
"Alright, everyone. I think it's time for all of you fine journalists to head home."
His giant frame completely blocked Aunt May from view.
And his reputation worked just as well.
The reporters immediately turned their cameras and microphones toward him.
"Mr. Fisk, why are you here?"
Kingpin looked at the reporter and put on a solemn expression.
"Spider-Man was a good friend of mine. I always admired him. I believed he was a true hero. What a good man he was. I never imagined fate could be so cruel as to take his life like this."
What a fake.
This was exactly what he was good at, packaging himself like some shining saint while doing filthy things in the dark.
If those reporters were not his doing, Peter would never believe it.
Looking at that bloated sack of fake sympathy, Peter wanted to carve him open on the spot. But his reason told him not to move. There was definitely some deeper secret here.
After half an hour of hiding there like he was sitting on nails, Fisk finally made a show of saying goodbye. And, just as expected, the reporters who were very likely there because of him scattered immediately afterward.
Aunt May stood looking at the house behind her, and the grief hit her all over again. Tears started falling once more.
Peter could not bear to watch.
He pulled his mask back on, dropped into the shadows, and vanished. A few muffled cries rang out.
Then he returned.
"What happened?" Mary Jane asked.
"I killed them all. Also cleared out a few roaches. They were probably men that fat bastard left behind to watch Aunt May."
Peter said it as casually as if he were talking about a minor chore. He wiped his bloodstained curved blades with a handkerchief and pointed behind him.
"The Peter I knew would never kill."
"And that's why he's dead and I'm still alive."
Peter's voice was calm.
Then he pulled off the mask, changed back into the suit, and forced himself to breathe slowly until he looked less ready to explode.
"I kill too. That's part of being a private detective. When you have that many enemies, either you put them down or you die."
As someone from the Great Depression era, Spider-Man Noir did not even blink.
To him, killing was ordinary. And honestly, he did not think Peter was wrong either. If it had been him, he would have ended things with two bullets.
That was just the kind of world this was.
Some good people died.
Some bad people lived.
So maybe there was nothing wrong with not being one of the good ones.
(End of Chapter)
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